A Godless Indifference
by Pollux Unbound
Summary: Grimmjow contemplates on Ulquiorra and Aizen while jealousy pokes fun at him. GrimmjowxUlquiorra. GrimmUlqui Yaoi Oneshot


**Title**: A Godless Indifference

**Summary**: Grimmjaw contemplates on Ulqiuorra and Aizen while jealousy pokes fun at him. GrimmjawxUlqiuorra. Yaoi.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bleach; Kubo Tite does.

These external things, the frivolous superficialities that blind your judgment and cloud your impulses are nothing but mere prejudiced products of your marred perceptions: tricks of the senses that go no deeper than the skin. What does it matter anyway if he looks goddamn stunning and reserved and cool and divine and his sublime beauty surpasses all standards? Am I not something to look at too? Look at me and tell me there is more, anything at all that would melt your immunity against attraction. Found anything? No? The atrocity of it all! If only you cared not to have your mind reeling with comparisons of Aizen-sama and me, you would see fairly what is offered to you. It is your unfailing passion for praise and elevation that's fueling this nonchalance and obstinacy! Is that all there is to Hueco Mundo? Can't you see there is me? If you counted all the reasons for our union, all the zeroes in the world and beyond would not be enough for you!

Ah, here he is again, sowing envy, confusion, and fury on me by proclaiming his control over you. You submit, as you always do, without as much as a sideway glance at me or a split second of hesitation. You surrender, almost obligingly, docilely, as if you desire the whole process too, as if it were the only thing to which instincts guide you…oh no, you don't simply desire it; by the looks of it, you are obsessively committed to his whimsical orders. And I am here again, only with my ideological and mental protests as companions, though not to comfort me but to inspire discontent and breed hatred. And my merciless desire for revenge will amount to nothing, as always and forever will be. What happens when he closes the door behind him…I can only weave hazy conjectures. But, boy, do I know so much. It starts with a kiss. He's touching your chest now. He takes off your clothes now. You're letting me go! And I'm choking with dismay now, and there is jealousy gnawing fire in my heart. Jealousy, ah, I've never used a term so loosely until now; it is much more than that! I can't even define it.

Alas, you are done. The doors part asunder, after which you slip past my waiting shadow. I'm looking at you now. Do you have any idea how many times you've threatened to place me on my grave just by entering that room? I don't. I've lost count already. Still, nothing changes the fact that you're looking at me now, and there isn't anything in those green orbs that can even faintly be associated with common politeness. You're just fucking staring right at me, employing your conspiratorial tendency to ignore me. I am wandering here again in my blind alleys of thought, asking myself if I'll ever be free from the haunting menace that is you. These words I've been reserving only for you are now dusty with disuse, and I wonder if they'll ever escape the prison that is my mouth. Silence rings down the minutes. In time, you speak to me with that don't-give-a-damn quality,

"Do you need anything, Grimmjaw?"

Where else can I be now but in a state of not finding anything better to say than,

"Nothing."

So much for my rehearsed speech, not even a partially complete result. Is this a progress? Yeah, a progress backward to be precise. I struggle with my choice of immediate action until I settle with walking away with a without-care-for-the-world effect, like an idiot clumsily pulling the strings of pretense that I am completely fine when in truth…God knows what the truth is. Why must you demonstrate the power of the weapon that will transform my life into death?! Do you not know that hate is NOT the opposite of love? It is indifference, Ulquiorra! I will pray to whoever is sitting up there that in your innocence or ignorance (or is it just plainly indifference?) you hit the truth!

This enmity I hold for him, him whom we all call our god, is now too sour to relate to any form of personal hatred, and I am long past exhaustion and frustration and other idiotic extremes. This is heartbreak in its most extreme. I guess I'll just make do with covert glances and stupid reveries—the insufficient satisfactions… I hope not forever though.

**END**


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